


i see the light, touch the light, we're together now

by a_splash_of_stucky



Series: By Morning Light [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blowjobs, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous relationship, Shower Sex, domestic life, sex is used as a stress relief, unprotected sex, which is a questionable method tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_splash_of_stucky/pseuds/a_splash_of_stucky
Summary: A little stress-relief before a big meeting





	i see the light, touch the light, we're together now

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned before, this chapter (and all subsequent chapters) can be read as a standalone piece. I had waaaay too much fun doing the dialogue at the end, y’all.
> 
> I haven’t written enough Steve x Reader smut in my life, so consider this me rectifying that problem ;))
> 
> also: the chapter title is from Chasing The Sun, by The Wanted (wow, that takes me back)

How to ensure that someone doesn’t fall asleep? Add a shit-ton of stress to a handful of nerves and boom! Sleepless night, guaranteed.

Goodness. Sleep deprivation really  _does_ fuck with one’s ability to think coherently, you muse deliriously.

Theoretically, sleep should be easy to come by, given the position you’re in. Your body is relaxed, comforted by the warmth of your boyfriends on either side of you. Despite this, that pesky sleep just will not come — there are only so many sheep you can count, after all. To make matters worse, thoughts are flying through your brain at a million miles an hour, all clamouring for a slice of your attention. It’s deafening cacophony inside your brain. You can already imagine the kind of migraine you’ll have by the end of the day.

Unwilling to admit defeat, you pull the covers up to your chin and burrow underneath them, determined to get at least another thirty minutes of sleep before you have to wake up officially. You focus on the sound of Steve’s breathing, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Your head is pillows on his chest, his left arm slung over your torso. Bucky’s flesh arm is thrown over your waist and your feet are tucked in between his calves.

Normally, listening to the soothing rhythm of Steve and Bucky’s breathing would be enough to lull you back to sleep. Now, falling back asleep seems like a far-fetched hope. You crack open one eye to peer at the alarm clock on the nightstand, lifting your head to peer over Steve’s shoulder. The display reads 5.37 AM. Almost dawn, then.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve murmurs softly, his chest rumbling underneath your ear. You exhale slowly as his fingers start to stroke up and down your upper arm. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head and sigh heavily in response. Steve hums in sympathy, wrapping his arm around your a little tighter and pressing a kiss to the top of your hair. “Too nervous?” he asks.

Your head nods vigorously in affirmation. Steve’s unspoken concern is radiating off of him in tangible waves; you’d gone to bed rather late the night before, and with an important meeting taking place in just over three hour’s time, he knows that you being stressed-out and sleep-deprived is not going to end well.

Today is the day that you head into the city, sit down in a boardroom and talk business with some very important people. A huge clothing company wants to collaborate with you — they want you to design some graphic t-shirts and potentially some lifestyle items for their upcoming spring/summer collection.

Their lead designer — a woman whose work you’ve admired for a long time — had seen some of your illustrative pieces being displayed at a recent art exhibition. Apparently, she’d been rather impressed. A few days after the exhibition launch, you’d gotten a call to inform you of this new job opportunity. You’re flattered that such a world-renowned company would want to work with you.

In truth, you’ve been dying for an offer like this ever since you started your career as a professional illustrator. This is a big deal — a global company wanting to collaborate with you? The recognition that you would get as a result both exhilarates and terrifies you.

You need to actually land this job first, however.

Everything’s still up in the air, at the minute, so this meeting is being held so that both parties can get to know each other a little better. You are to meet with the design team that you would be working with, if you ended up collaborating with this brand, to get an idea of what your role in the design process would be. The team would also by trying to get a feel for you; your capabilities, your character, the kind of person they’d be working with for the next few months.

In preparation for your big meeting, you’ve spent the better part of the last couple of weeks — ever since you got that fateful phone call, really — preparing small mockups and sample illustrations, following the design specifications that they had given you. ‘Tropical’, is the theme they’ve decided to go with, which means that most of your artwork incorporates bright summer colours and vivid shades of green. You’ve been working like a machine for these last few days, fuelled almost entirely by sugar and caffeine. You’re working yourself to the bone, barely getting any sleep.

Not wanting you to have a fatigue-induced crash in the middle of your big meeting, Bucky and Steve had had to forcibly bundle you off to bed at 10 PM, so that you could get a few solid hours of sleep in.

You never thought the day would come when you would willingly say no to cuddle-time with your two favourite people, but that is exactly what happened the night before, when Steve and Bucky came into your art room. You’d been in the midst of putting the final touches to your jungle illustration — the ‘final touches’ that you’d been working on for over an hour, admittedly. They’d been insistent, physically dragging you away from your desk when you said no.

They’re enhanced individuals, for crying out loud. How are you supposed to be able to resist their combined strengths?

You’d protested and pouted like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. In the end, you knew that you’d lost the battle when the boys utilised their fail-safe weapon against you. There’s no way you could’ve said no to one, let alone  _two_  sets of bright blue puppy-dog eyes.

They’re the loves of your life, for crying out loud. How are you supposed to be able to resist their combined cuteness?

They’ve got you wrapped around their pinky fingers, honestly.

But, it had all been for the best. Now, seven and a half hours of sleep later, you feel refreshed and alert, ready to take on the fucking  _world,_ if you really wanted to. You’re still nervous as hell, but at least the ever-present sense of exhaustion that’s been hanging around for the last couple of days has finally gone away.

Steve’s hand smoothing down the centre of your back draws your thoughts to the present. You tip your head back to look at Steve properly. In the dim, pre-dawn light, he still manages to look gorgeous, taking your breath away with those cheekbones  _alone_.

“Morning, baby,” you murmur, keeping your voice down so as to not wake Bucky up. You stroke your knuckles over his jaw.

He smiles, catching your hand in his and pressing your fingertips to his lips. “Morning, sweetheart,” he says quietly, “I can’t sleep either.”

You hum, twisting your hand around so that you can interlace your fingers with his. “Let’s take a shower together,” Steve says.

The corner of your lips tugs up into a smirk at his suggestion. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You need to get ready, and the stress relief would be good,” he tells you.

You giggle softly, one eyebrow quirking upwards. “Yeah, and you could use the  _relief_ , I take it?” you tease, gently pressing your thigh into Steve’s crotch, trapping his semi-hard cock between your bodies. Even with the fabric of his boxers separating you, you can still feel the intense heat being exuded from his body. An involuntary shiver ripples across your skin.

“Killin’ two birds with one stone,” Steve mumbles. You can practically  _hear_ the smile in his voice.

You snort quietly, shaking your head as you press your forehead into the hollow of his neck. What the hell? It’s not a bad idea; the sex might actually calm you down, somewhat. Besides — with you working your ass off these last few days, you’ve hardly been able to make time for your boys, and the guilt of that hangs heavy in your belly.

“Go on, then,” you mutter, prodding Steve in the shoulder so that he gets the message. With a grin, Steve gently disentangles himself from the covers and rolls out of bed, loping off to the bathroom to get the shower started. You take a minute to watch him, savouring the way his body is back-lit by the meagre light spilling in through the curtains, making him look like some ethereal being. Your eyes track him as he crosses the room, taking in the confidence and power that clings to him like an aura. Arousal begins to pool in your core.

It takes quite some effort, on your behalf, to detach yourself from your other boyfriend. Bucky absolutely  _must_ have as much of his skin in contact with you as possible — he sleeps like a goddamn octopus, wrapping all his limbs around you and holding you close. You gingerly ease your feet out from between his legs, then pry his arm off you, rolling away quickly before settling it back down. Bucky snuffles and stirs in his sleep, but does not wake up. You bend down to press a tender kiss on his nose, then follow in Steve’s footsteps and head to the bathroom.

You lean against the doorframe, a small smile playing on your face as you watch Steve fiddle with the shower knobs. His glorious back is towards you, meaning that you have the pleasure of watching those sinuous muscles flex and ripple beneath a layer of pale skin as he moves. Your eyes travel lower, drinking in that unfairly small waist, and lingering on the simple black boxers he wore to bed. They hang low on his waist and make his ass — an ass tight enough to bounce a coin off — look especially enticing. The sight of him makes something warm and hungry flare in your belly, a simmering need that you ache to fill.

Steve turns around at that moment, his palm outstretched towards you, a beaming grin on his lips. You accept his hand, your own looking ridiculously small in his big palm. He pulls you close. Water thunders down onto the tiled floor of the shower cubicle, steam escaping from the open door and gradually fogging up the bathroom. You have no doubt that the noise will eventually rouse Bucky — if it hasn’t already. You’ve left the door partly open because of this, a silent invitation for him to come and join the two of you, if he feels interested.

A knot of tension unravels inside you as Steve’s hands land heavy on your waist, long, slender fingers spreading over your sides. His touch is electric and hot, even through the fabric of your nightgown. He leans down just as you rise on your tip-toes, meeting each other halfway in a slow and sensual kiss. Soft moans and breathy sighs escape your mouth each time he presses forward. Steve is slowly stoking the fire inside you, the gentle desire of before giving way to something more lustful, needier.

The longer you kiss, the more at ease you feel. All of the stress that you’ve been shouldering these past few days evaporates. Your body melts into Steve’s, relaxing as the tightly coiled spring inside of you eases. Steve’s hands are strong and sure as they roam over you. Your fingers tangle through his hair as you let your mind float, momentarily forgetting about all the work you need to do, all thoughts of your meeting getting pushed aside. The only thing occupying your mind right now is  _Steve, Steve, Steve_  — he is where your concerns for the moment begin and end. Nothing else exists in this world beside you, him, and the shower that is begging for your attention.

When Steve pulls away, you’re left breathless, chest heaving and skin tingling with excitement. He’s got a slightly wild look in his eyes, the blue of his irises almost completely swallowed by the darkness of his pupils. His hair is sticking up in endearing tufts as a result of you running your fingers through it.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your nightgown, at the same time that his eyes make contact with yours. You raise your arms above your head, allowing Steve to peel the flimsy material off and fling it onto the floor. Your nipples harden into tight peaks, both as a result of the sudden chill and due to the uninhibited lust in Steve’s gaze. He growls under his breath, reaching a hand out to lightly skate his fingers over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your eyes fluttering shut. He touches your collarbone, the side of your ribs, your waist — light brushes in seemingly random places, as if he just wants to make sure that you’re real. Steve crouches down so that his eyes are level with your belly button, thumbs hooked into the sides of the cotton panties that you wore to sleep.

You bite your lip as Steve slides them down your legs, tingles of excitement running up and down your spine. When they fall to your feet, Steve helps you step out of them, plants a kiss to your right knee, then straightens to his full height.

His arms encircle you again and this time, there’s a little more urgency behind each press of his lips, a little more heat behind each swipe of his tongue. Your bare chest rubs against his, making you mewl helplessly into his mouth. Steve growls low from the back of his throat in response. You fingers curl around his muscled biceps, practically melding your body against his.

“Shower,” you remind him, in between kisses.

“Right,” Steve breathes, crashing his lips to yours one last time.

He steps away from you, laughing softly as you try to try to chase his mouth. You watch as he hooks his fingers into his boxers and shucks them off in one fluid motion. Steve kicks them in the direction of the laundry basket, before stepping towards you once more. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his cock, fully hard and curving towards his belly. Oh, how desperately you want that thing inside you. Steve catches you looking at his dick and raises an eyebrow. You shrug your shoulders, unashamed and unabashed by the fact that you’ve been caught. How can anyone keep their gaze in check when their boyfriend looks like Adonis incarnated?

Steve’s fingers encircle your wrist and he drags you into the shower, pulling the door shut behind you. You find yourself thanking the heavens above that your house comes with such a massive shower stall — it has served you well on more than one occasion. You and Steve fit in here comfortably. Even if Bucky  _were_ to come in a join the fun, there’d still be room to spare. The space has other features that make it an especially suitable sex spot — there’s a railing affixed to the wall that you can grab onto when you’re getting taken from behind, and the little alcove that houses your in-shower toiletries is the perfect height for you to sit on while someone goes to town between your legs. There are two shower heads installed; one fitted into the ceiling, which is the one that is currently in use, and the second is a detachable one, hanging on the wall.  _That_ one is perfect for when you need that extra bit of stimulation. The door and fourth wall is made entirely of glass, which has been completely fogged up by the steam, at this point.

You hum softly as the shower spray hits your back, the warm water immediately relaxing the tension in your muscles. You close your eyes and tip your head backwards, letting your mind drift with the steady thrum of the shower water. You startle when your feel Steve’s hands on your jaw, but smile into the kiss when his lips press against yours, not even bothering to open your eyes.

Steve pushes you into the middle of the spray.  You open your eyes to watch him. He pumps some of your body soap into his hands and works it into a foamy lather, before holding his index finger in the air and turning it in a small circle.

“Let me get your back,” he says.

You nod silently, doing as you’re told and tipping your head forward, so that he can reach your neck. A soft sigh escapes your lips as his big, steady hands land on your shoulder. He works the soap into your skin using circular motions, the action gradually working the knots out of your aching muscles. You find yourself pressing back into his touch, quiet little huffs of pleasure being punched out of you each time Steve hits a particularly sensitive spot. His hands are sure as they work over your back. When he crouches down to wash your lower half, you instinctively widen your stance to give him better access. You not-so-subtly push your ass towards him, a mute plea for him to shift his attention there. Steve laughs, squeezing your ass cheeks affectionately.

You groan at the touch, leaning forward to rest your hands on the wall, allowing your head to hang limp between your shoulders. Steve’s touch is a soothing comfort on your skin as he runs his big palms down your left leg, before working their way up the right one. He spends a suspiciously large amount of time washing your ass, fingers dipping teasingly close to your sex without actually hitting the spots where you need him most. You huff in frustration. Steve chuckles.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he says, dropping a kiss to your hip.

It takes a moment for you to process and obey his request. Steve’s still kneeling on the floor, looking up at you with a playful smile on his face when you finally turn around. He presses a kiss to the crease of your thigh, then works his way up your body, smoothing his hands over your legs, skimming over your mound, washing your belly and torso. He cups and squeezes your breasts as he washes them, catching your nipples between his fingers and rolling them until you feel like a raw nerve. You whine at the touch, impatient for more. When his face is right in front of yours, you lean forward to capture his lips in a kiss. Steve hums into it, hands coming to rest on your waist as he allows you to lead.

Your lips trail over his jaw and neck, tongue darting out to lick at his skin. Steve groans, momentarily distracted as he reaches back and pumps some shampoo into his hand, working that into a lather as well. His fingers feel so fucking  _good_ on your scalp, pressing down on the spots that have you moaning and huffing in a few seconds. He washes your hair diligently, before quietly ordering you to tip your head back to wash the suds out. The head massage you receive when Steve works the conditioner in is as equally arousing, and by the time he asks you to step out of the water to let the conditioner sit, you’re feeling the heat between your legs a lot more intensely.

Steve reaches out to grab some soap to wash himself, but you beat him to it, squirting some of the body wash into your hand. You’re perhaps not as thorough in your treatment of his body as he was with yours — the pressing urge in your loins making you rush through the job — but Steve enjoys the way your fingers press into his skin, nonetheless, eyes slipping shut as a result of your ministrations.

You drop to your knees to wash his legs, peering up at Steve through your wet lashes. He opens his eyes to watch you, desire and lust evident in his gaze. His fingers card through your hair, working the conditioner out of it as your hands skate over his muscled thighs. Your fingers trace his Adonis lines, the crease of his thigh, comb through the thatch of blonde hair at the base of his cock.

Steve growls when your fist closes around the base of his shaft. You give the length a few languid strokes, twisting your wrist each time you get to the head to tease him just right. You lean forward to capture the tip of his dick between your lips, suckling on it absentmindedly as your tongue flicks and swirls over the slit. Steve hisses, hips jerking in an aborted thrust. He leans back, pressing his shoulders into the tiled wall out of sheer ecstasy.

“Wanna fuck you,” Steve grits out, another moan ripping free of his throat as you close both fists around his cock, twisting them in opposite directions as you pump them up and down his length. “ _Ah_ —fuck,  _fuck_ sweetheart—please, I wanna be inside you.”

You ignore him once again, taking more of his cock into your mouth and sucking him in earnest now, your tongue teasing the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. With a low growl, Steve finally takes matters into his own hands, grabbing you by your armpits and hoisting you to your feet. You giggle, allowing yourself to be pulled up and into another kiss, this one more desperate and intense than any of the ones you’ve shared before. Steve catches your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on it, growling passionately at the moan that elicits from you.

He crowds you against the wall, hands grabbing to large handfuls of your ass and squeezing them playfully. Steve uses his hold on you to lift you up, encouraging you to hook your legs around his waist. His cock is trapped between your bellies, his shaft  _barely_ gliding against your wet folds with every movement of his body. Every now and then, the thick veins on it will bump against your clit, causing you to groan loudly, head thunking against the wall in blissful pleasure.

“Please, baby,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your hips into Steve’s. “Stevie, baby, I need you.”

“Yeah,” he pants, shaking his wet fringe out of his eyes, “Yeah,  _fuck_ , okay.”

You bite your lip as Steve works a hand between your bodies, gets his fist around the base of his cock. You nuzzle the side of his neck, pressing idle kisses into the wet skin there as he guides the head to your sopping entrance. A loud moan tears from your lips as he presses inside you, the sound echoing off the walls. You dig your nails into his biceps as the sheer girth of his cock stretches you open, filling you up in the way that only he can.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart,” Steve gasps, rocking his hips forward to feed you more and more of his dick. “ _Ah_ —fu— _god_ , you’re so good to me, sweetie.”

You whine, trying to roll your hips forward so that you can take more of him inside you. Steve adjusts his grip so that his arm is holding your waist more securely, forcing you to just sit there and take what he gives you. You growl frustratedly and, in retaliation, yank him forward by the shoulders to lay claim to his mouth. You kiss him with wanton passion. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, more a clacking of teeth against teeth than anything else, but Steve’s hips jerk into you as a result of it, burying the last bit of his cock inside you.

“Oh my god, Steve,” you whimper, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as your body adjusts to this new, wholly pleasurable intrusion inside it. You can feel his balls against your ass. Your toes wiggle and curl at the hot, unforgiving pressure of his cock inside you. Steve presses kisses to the side of your neck, murmuring praises into your skin. All around you, the water thunders down, ensconcing you in your own world.

“So good to me, honey,” Steve whispers, nosing at your jaw until you tip your head back, baring your throat to him. “Oh, you’re so good for me,” he mumbles, trailing his lips over your pulse point.

“Steve…,” you moan, rolling your hips insistently. “M’good, c’mon, I’m ready.”

It doesn’t last long once the thrusting starts. You cling to his shoulders for dear life, just hanging on for the ride. Breathless, rapturous,  _euphoric_ cries spill from your throat each time he slams home. If Bucky hasn’t woken up by now, you’ve no doubt that that situation will change very soon.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve puffs, right against the shell of your ear, “Takin’ it so good, takin’ my cock like you were made for it, huh?”

“Yeah, Ste— _fuck_!”

He growls in response, shifting his hands so that the left one is holding your waist and the other is braced against the wall beside your head. Steve rocks his hips forward with quick, staccato thrusts, your body sliding up the wall with each movement. Each surge of his hips stokes the embers inside your gut, intensifying the fire that is burning deep within your body.

“F-fuck, sweetie,  _ah—_ touch yourself,” Steve begs, voice choked and strained. “Can’t—last…baby, m’not gonna last, please — ‘m so close.”

You moan at that, your walls involuntarily fluttering around his pumping cock. Steve lets out a string of curses, gritting his teeth and slamming into you with renewed vigour. He pries your hand from its death grip on his shoulder and brings it to the apex of your thighs, pressing your fingers to your clit.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice breaking on a whimper. “Please—I wanna, you gotta…come for me, sweetheart—wanna see it.”

You moan lustfully as your fingers rub circles over your sensitive bud, the pleasure inside you swirling into an ever-tighter ball. The pressure accumulates until you think that you’re going to explode. Steve fucks into you with reckless abandon, hand digging into your waist hard enough that you’ll probably bruise, lips restlessly trailing over your jaw and neck. His breath is hot against your skin, sharp pants a steady rhythm in your ear that is broken every now and then by a muttered curse or feral growl. He’s taking you higher and higher, the pressure of your impending release making your entire body feel as if it is crackling with electricity.

“Come for me, sweetie,” Steve grunts, right against your lips. “Come for me now, right _fucking_ now.”

And you do.

With a sharp wail, your entire body goes as rigid as a bowstring, back arching off the wall. Fireworks explode behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure courses through your veins like molten lava.

It’s glorious.

Steve sobs in relief and slams into you one last time, burying his cock balls-deep inside you as it shoots off, your own orgasm having tipped him over. He buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder, moaning hotly as he empties himself inside of you, his hips grinding into your pussy as he rides out his climax. You loop your arms around his shoulders and hold him close, fingers stroking through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

When he’s utterly spent, Steve pulls out his softened cock and gingerly lowers you down to your feet. You step out of the shower stall and grab your towel as Steve shuts off the water. You pat yourself dry, wrap your soaking wet hair in a second towel, then head out to the bedroom. Steve gives his hair a cursory rub-down, before wrapping the towel around his waist and following after you.

The sunlight trickling in through the curtains casts shadows over Bucky’s form, making him look soft and vulnerable in the morning light. With his eyes still closed and his mouth slightly parted, he looks peaceful, and your heart swells with love at the sight. You cross to your dressing table and sit down, pulling your makeup bag closer to you. Your vanity has a huge square mirror built into it, but you’ve also got a smaller, magnified mirror that you keep on the table itself — this, you pull towards you.

“Sounds like you two were having fun,” Bucky comments, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Sure did,” Steve says, crossing over to the chest of drawers below the window to pull out some clothes for himself. “Just helping Y/N out with some pre-meeting stress.”

“Uh-huh. And she was helping you out with your morning glory, I take it?” Bucky quips, rolling onto his back so that he can look at Steve properly.

“It  _was_ rather glorious,” you confirm, watching Bucky through the reflection in the big mirror.

“Shame I had to miss it, then,” he sighs. Bucky lifts his head from off the pillow, then, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Honey, do I get a turn? You think you got another round in you?”

You glance at your watch that is resting on top of the dresser and sigh when you see the time. “Buck, if I go another round, I’m gonna miss my train and be late.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, flopping back down dramatically. “Knew I should’a hauled my ass outta bed.”

“You can be first in line for the celebration sex,” Steve says, taking his towel off and tossing it onto Bucky’s face. Bucky yelps indignantly.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” he grumbles sleepily, dropping the towel to the floor as he rolls onto his side away from Steve. You smile as he gives Steve the finger whilst simultaneously burrowing even deeper into the duvet.

“Aw babe,” Steve says, clucking his tongue sympathetically. “I’m being serious — you get first dibs tonight. Celebration sex is almost as good as shower sex, I hear.”

“You seem pretty confident that I’m gonna get it, Steve,” you say, tipping your chin up so that you can blend your foundation down to your neck. “Aren’t you being a little presumptuous?”

“I know you’re gonna get it,” Steve says simply, turning to the dresser to yank open a drawer. You’re treated to a view of his bare ass in the mirror. “You’re my best girl, I know you can do it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I have faith in you  too,” Bucky says, from under the blankets. “You’re gonna crush it, sweetie, I know you will.”

“‘’Sides,” Steve continues, pulling out a pair of navy boxer briefs. “I’m always right about these kinda things. I got good instinct.”

Bucky snorts, rolling over to squint his eyes at Steve accusingly. “What lies,” he says, “That’s bullshit, Rogers. Instinct tells you to jump off planes without a para—,”

“I swear to fucking god, Bucky, that was  _one time_ ,” Steve growls.

“One time too many,” Bucky retorts. As Steve shakes his head disbelievingly, Bucky swivels his head to look at you, catching your gaze in the reflection. “He come inside you, honey?” he asks.

You blink, hands stilling in surprise. “Uh…yeah…?” you answer hesitantly, “Why d’you ask?”

“Steve’s spunk is good luck,” Bucky says seriously. You mouth falls open in shock as Steve seemingly chokes on his own spit.

“Why do you say that?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Because this one time he fucked me, like…ten minutes before I left for that mission in Rio, and I swear, that mission? One of the best I’ve ever been on — in and out without a hitch, two hours ahead of schedule, not a single cut or bruise on me. It was brilliant!” he cries, eyes going dreamy at the memory.

“Well,” you remark dryly, fighting the smile that is threatening to creep onto your lips, “That’s encouraging. Thanks, Stevie.”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve sputters.

“I  _definitely_  wouldn’t mention it during your meeting,” Bucky agrees.

“Bucky,” Steve says hoarsely. You watch him in the mirror, noting the way he’s white-knuckling the top of the dressers, briefs forgotten about and on the floor. He’s staring at Bucky eyes with wide, shocked eyes, but his pupils having darkened, just a little. “Are you—saying that I should fuck you before every mission?” he asks weakly.

“Nah,” Bucky says rolling over so that his back is to Steve again. “Don’t wanna abuse it or jinx it, y’know?”

“Of course,” Steve mutters, running his fingers through his damp hair and making the front part stick up straight. He looks like a startled cockatoo.

“But,” Bucky adds, shooting Steve a look from over his shoulder, “You  _could_  fuck me now. This stiffy ain’t going away by itself, Rogers.”

Steve stills, levels Bucky with a curious gaze. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a seductive smile. “Aw, Buck,” Steve purrs, sauntering over to the bed and leaning one knee onto it, “Hearin’ me and Y/N goin’ at it got you worked up, huh?”

A shiver runs down your back when you hear Steve’s voice, hear how it has gone low and husky, the way it does when he’s aroused. You chance a glance at the large mirror built into your dresser and see that — yep, Steve’s cock is definitely beginning to perk up in interest. Damn super-soldiers and their non-existent refractory periods.

“Damn right it did,” Bucky grumbles, though there’s no heat to his tone — well, not the angry kind, anyway. “You gonna help me take care of that situation?”

“I got a few potential solutions in mind,” Steve replies, putting his other leg on the bed and knee-walking towards Bucky

You sigh heavily and set down your makeup brush, giving the boys’ reflections an unamused glare. “Darlings, could you at least wait until I’ve left the house before you start going at it?”

“Mmm no,” Bucky says decisively, turning his head towards Steve so that the latter can plant a kiss on his lips. “Go get ready in the kitchen, or something.”

With an exaggerated huff, you gather up your makeup bag, pick up the hanger that is holding your outfit for today and stalk across the bedroom. “Fine then!” you grumble, “Have fun, boys.”

“Good luck, sweetheart!” Steve calls over his shoulder.

“Slay those motherfuckers, honey!” Bucky adds, in his most encouraging tone. “And then come home quick so that I can slay your pussy.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, shaking your head in amusement as laughter tugs on your lips. You shut the door just as Bucky murmurs a heated  _I want you to fuck my ass, baby,_ against Steve’s lips. Oh, this day has most definitely started off in the best way possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Share the love over on [tumblr!](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/post/169457986465/by-morning-light-ii/)


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